Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1)

by Peter Kenson

  A muffled knock of wood on wood came as they passed one of the wagons and the attackers froze, looking for the source of the sound. When the sound was not repeated, the leader cautiously signalled his men to continue. The two bodyguards on duty began a patrol around the perimeter of the tent and the leader sent three of his men to intercept them as they came back round from the other side. With the other two men, he pushed open the tent flap and went inside.

  “Good morning,” David said brightly from the camp stool where he was sitting. “I’m afraid Lord Jeren isn’t here at the moment but if you wait a minute, I can send for him.”

  The three men blinked in surprise as someone turned up the wick in a night lamp to reveal six heavily armed men, standing in a semicircle behind David. The last man into the tent tried hastily to back out again, only to find his way blocked by two of Jorgen’s burliest men. There were sounds of a scuffle from outside the tent and then Feynor’s voice reported ‘all clear, my lord’.

  The leader of the attackers slowly raised his hands as David’s men moved to disarm and search them.

  “Lord Held, I presume,” the leader said. “It appears you have us at a disadvantage.”

  “Yes it does,” David agreed cheerfully. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why you’re here and who sent you.

  “I think you know why we’re here and nobody sent us. We came on our own initiative.”

  David stood up and nodded. “Under other circumstances, that answer could cause you a lot of pain but I don’t believe you could tell me anything I don’t already know. Take them away and put them under close guard. No contact with anybody. The rest of you stand down and get some rest. It’s going to be a long day today.”

  Kemon reported to David while he was grabbing a quick breakfast with the girls.

  “Sit down and have some food,” he said. “What have you got for me?”

  “Nothing you can use, milord. As soon as they arrived yesterday, they spread out throughout the entire encampment. They were generous with wineskins and kegs of ale and they were pushing the message that Lord Grekan was a better leader to take them back to Marmoros than a fifteen year old boy. I haven’t found anyone yet who will speak against Lord Grekan although I think a lot of that is more due to fear than to loyalty.”

  “Okay, don’t go back down there. The council meeting will start in a couple of hours and I would like to keep you handy.”

  “There is one other thing, milord. There’s a bit of a kerfuffle going on down there at the moment. Apparently six men have gone missing overnight. Nobody knows what’s happened to them.”

  “Yes, well maybe that will give Lord Grekan something to worry about.”

  As the councillors started to arrive for the meeting, Jorgen’s red cloaks stood guard outside the tent and collected weapons from everyone going in. Excluding Lord Jeren there were fifteen councillors present; six from Paelis including David and Falaise, Lord Meriden arrived with three others from Keldis and Lord Grekan came with four councillors from Westron. David was upset but not particularly surprised to see Lord Bardsley arrive with the Westron contingent.

  Falaise opened the meeting by welcoming the Westron Lyenar and Jeren repeated his vision of what the Lyenar could achieve as a united people in retaking their homeland and the city of Marmoros.

  “I think I speak for all the councillors,” Grekan began. “When I thank you for sharing your vision of the future with us, young Jeren…”

  “Lord Jeren,” Falaise interrupted furiously.

  “I beg your pardon, Lord Jeren, but you are young and do not actually have a voice in this council.”

  “That is where you are wrong, my lord. This is my council and you are my councillors; here to advise me and my lady mother as regent.”

  “Preposterous. We do not advise you, Lord Jeren. We will instruct you on the wishes of the Lyenar people. You do not have the experience to lead the Lyenar into battle and neither does your mother. I propose that we appoint a strong leader to take charge of these mercenary forces and command the attack on Marmoros.”

  “If I might intervene at this point,” David interrupted. “I am here under contract to Lord Jeren and at the specific entreaty of Lady Falaise, as leaders of the Lyenar. If they were no longer to be the leaders of your people, then I would regard the contract as being null and void, take my men and withdraw.”

  There were expressions of dismay from councillors around the tent at the prospect of attacking Marmoros without the support of David’s company.

  “Nonsense,” Grekan stated. “You are a mercenary and will fight for whoever pays you. I will issue you with a new contract and whatever they were paying you, I will double it.”

  “You mistake me, my lord. I am under contract to Lord Jeren as leader of the Lyenar. Until he dismisses me or is no longer the leader of his people, I cannot consider another contract.”

  “Then we will leave the terms of contract until we have resolved the leadership issue. But be very careful, Lord Held. Lord Bardsley tells me that you were appointed as councillor for your military experience; a decision that I can only put down to the lack of such experience in Lord Jeren and Lady Falaise. Under a stronger leader who already has that experience, we might not need you at all.”

  “Do not threaten me, my lord,” David said, the ice in his tone lowering the temperature in the tent by several degrees. “For all your vaunted experience, you appear to be quite careless with your men. I hear you have misplaced six of them overnight.”

  “They went out hunting and have not returned. What do you know of them?”

  “They are safe, my lord. Relatively undamaged and, for the moment, not being pressed to break their silence.”

  “How dare you detain my men? I demand their immediate release. You have no right to detain them.”

  “Everything I have done has been in accordance with my contract to protect Lord Jeren. Do you really wish to disclose the circumstances surrounding my actions, my lord?”

  The expressions of bemusement on the faces of the councillors not privy to the details of that exchange, vanished as Ash lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.

  “Ash,” David said, with an expression of irritated surprise. “I gave orders not to be disturbed.”

  “I beg your pardon for interrupting, my lord but there’s something you ought to see.”

  “Well can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of a council meeting.”

  “I think the council might want to see it as well, my lord.”

  “Now you’re intriguing me. What is it?”

  “One of the patrols has just come in, my lord and reported a large rock that wasn’t there yesterday.”

  There were sounds of barely suppressed amusement from some of the councillors.

  “This is one of your experienced officers, Lord Held,” Grekan guffawed. “Reporting a rock that his men failed to notice yesterday.”

  “No, my lord. Reporting a rock that wasn’t there yesterday,” Ash replied stubbornly.

  “How do you know it wasn’t there yesterday?” David asked.

  “Because, my lord, it’s a very large rock standing slap in the middle of the highroad. There’s barely room for a wagon to get past it. It’s causing bit of a traffic jam on the way into Yarford.”

  “Where exactly is it?”

  “It’s just north of the camp, my lord. Where the trail to High Falls branches off and right in the middle of the highroad. There’s one other thing that’s strange about it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My men reported that there’s a sword stuck in the rock with some writing above it. Neither of them could read it but one of them says it looks like old Lyenar script.”

  ***

  There was a crowd surrounding the rock by the time the council arrived. As Ash had described, it was completely in the centre of the road, forcing wagons to go round it. Not that any wagons were trying to do so as everybody stop
ped to stare at the phenomenon. Townspeople from Yarford jostled good naturedly with a mass of people from the camp as everybody tried to get a view.

  The crowd was so dense that initially the councillors could not get within fifty paces of the actual rock until David ordered the red cloaks to clear a passage. There was some grumbling from the crowd at this but eventually the councillors reached the front. The rock was large; it stood at twice the height of a man and was twenty paces around the circumference of the base. The hilt of the sword protruded horizontally from the rock at waist height and above that, in old Lyenar script as the councillors quickly confirmed, it read ‘The Sword of the King’.

  Many of the crowd had already translated the script and the murmuring in the crowd increased as the councillors huddled together in discussion. The argument grew quite heated and David drew Jeren aside unnoticed by the other councillors.

  “When you grasp the hilt,” David told him, “you will find a small stud under your thumb. Press that and the blade will glow blue with a faint shimmer and you can pull it out. Go and try it.”

  The crowd fell silent as Jeren approached the rock and put his hand on the hilt. He found the stud under his thumb and pressed and a great roar went up as he stepped back with the sword in his hand. At the sound of the cheers, the councillors turned as one to see Jeren standing there with the sword held high above his head.

  “How did you do that?” Grekan shouted. “It’s a trick. That sword is mine.”

  “I think not,” David said. “The sword is Prince Jeren’s. However, we are willing to put it to the test and prove it to you.

  “Prince Jeren, would you please replace the sword in the rock.”

  Jeren walked up to the rock and nervously touched the tip of the blade to the rock’s surface. It slid in smoothly. He pushed a little harder and the whole of the blade disappeared into the rock, leaving only the hilt visible. He took his hand away and the blue shimmer faded quickly as he stepped back.

  “Lord Grekan,” David said, raising his voice so that the crowd could hear. “You challenge Prince Jeren’s right to lead the Lyenar people. If the sword is yours, take it.”

  Grekan looked furious at being put on the spot but had no alternative other than to accept the challenge.

  “What if he finds the stud by his thumb?” Jeren whispered.

  “It won’t work for him,” David replied. “The sword has been… modified for you alone. Nobody else will ever be able to use it. That’s why I needed a lock of your hair.”

  Grekan strode over to the rock, grasped the hilt and pulled. Nothing happened; the sword did not move even a fraction. Grekan took the hilt in both hands and tried again with no success. Even more furious now, he gripped the hilt with both hands, braced one foot against the base of the rock and heaved with all his might. Again nothing happened and now a few jeers came from the crowd.

  Red faced now and sweating profusely, he rounded on David. “This is a trick,” he shouted. “You told him how to do it. What did you tell him?”

  “What? You mean about the stud?” David replied innocently.

  “What stud? Tell me exactly what you told him.”

  “I advised Prince Jeren that, when he took the hilt in one hand, there would be a stud under his thumb and pressing the stud might help him withdraw the sword.”

  “Hah. I knew it,” Grekan trumpeted. “It was a trick.”

  He walked back to the rock and took the hilt in one hand. He found the stud under his thumb as David had described, pressed it and pulled. Nothing happened except that the jeers from the crowd grew louder.

  “Prince Jeren, Perhaps you could show Lord Grekan how you did it. If my lord would step away for a moment.”

  Jeren walked over to the sword and pressed the stud. Instantly the blue glow reappeared and the sword slid smoothly out to the cheers of the watching crowd. Jeren replaced the sword in the rock and stepped away.

  “Lord Bardsley,” he said. “Perhaps you would try to withdraw the sword.”

  “I am making no claim to be leader, Lord Jeren,” Bardsley replied.

  “I appreciate that, my lord but I would like you to try so that we can prove to Lord Grekan, that this is not some trick that we are playing on him. And you too, Lord Meriden, to prove the same to the people that you lead.”

  Bardsley shrugged and walked over to the sword. He found the stud under this thumb and pressed but to no avail. The sword would not move for him or for Lord Meriden.

  “Is there anybody else who would like to try?” Jeren asked. “Or would you like to try again, Lord Grekan?”

  Grekan’s face by this time was turning an interesting shade of purple as he glared at Jeren and shook his head.

  This time as Jeren withdrew the sword and held it aloft, the cheers from the surrounding crowd were almost deafening. The councillors looked over their shoulders at the cheering crowd behind them and one by one, went down on one knee before their prince. Even Falaise sank into a deep curtsey until only David and Grekan were left standing.

  “You have gambled and lost, my lord,” David said. “You see the mood of the people here. You sense their joy and their pride. There is nothing you can say or do to affect the leadership of the Lyenar now. They have their leader, their prince. But you are still an important councillor and the leader of a powerful group of Lyenar families. Bend the knee now and I will release your men. Refuse and I will have them questioned most thoroughly and when they crack, you will be stripped of your rank and your authority in the same way that Gaelan was.”

  Grekan shifted the focus of his glare full into David’s face. “You play a dangerous game, Lord Held and it appears that I have underestimated you. That is not a mistake I will make a second time.”

  “Live with what you have, my lord and accept your share of the glory when we recapture Marmoros. Everyone involved in that victory will have a place in the history books. But move against Prince Jeren now and you will lose whatever popular support you have left.”

  “You really think we can do this? Retake Marmoros?”

  “Listen to the crowd, my lord. They believe in that young man and they will follow him to Marmoros. And yes, I think with the military strength we are building now and the enthusiasm of the people, we can retake Marmoros. Because, for all that you think I am a mercenary, I believe in that young man too. Now, shall we give the crowd what they want to see?”

  Together David and Grekan walked over to the space in front of the kneeling councillors and turned to face Jeren. When they both went down on one knee, the crowd erupted in ecstasy and cheered and shouted until they were hoarse.

  Chapter 21

  Josep, Zak and Seb collected the horses from the livery and made their way to Master Solomon’s house where the wagons were waiting for them. They thanked Ishak for his help the previous evening and Josep gave him a letter which he promised to send to Master Angelo in Puerto Reis, informing him of Cortes’ treachery.

  In the meanwhile, Agnes took Beth and Rachel to the market to buy some fresh supplies for the journey and by mid-morning the small train of three wagons passed through the city gates on the road to High Falls. Seb had bought himself a short bow in a case which was strapped to his saddle and his sword hung by his side as he rode proudly alongside the wagons in his first paid job as an official guard. Josep had enquired for other guards in the inns around the marketplace but all of them had been taken by the merchants who had already left for Yarford.

  That was not a problem for the first part of the journey because the road they were following was designated a highroad, maintained and protected by Duke Theron, at least as far as the caravanserai in the foothills. From that point on the road climbed steeply as it zigzagged up to the town of High Falls and was largely under the control of the officials based in that town. Duke Theron did maintain a garrison alongside the caravanserai at the bottom but in reality, the protection they offered only extended back down the highroad and not into the hill
s.

  The traffic dwindled away as they left the city behind them and they made good progress, passing dozens of farms along the fertile valley. There were villages too along the way and so they treated themselves to the comfort of a bed and a hot meal overnight in a hostelry.

  It was at one of these inns on the third night out from Kell, that they encountered a small caravan coming down the road from High Falls. There were six wagons escorted by four professional looking guards and another two horses trotting behind, carrying arms and armour but no riders.

  “Did you run into some trouble?” Josep asked, looking at the empty saddles.

  “It was those bastards at High Falls,” Alfonso, the caravan leader replied. “They’re really jumpy at the moment. Soon as they found out we were Lyenar, they slammed the gates in our faces. Didn’t stop them collecting their tolls but they wouldn’t let us into the town. Kept muttering something about a Lyenar army coming to recapture Marmoros. Absolute nonsense of course but it’s got them in a right state.”

  “It’s not nonsense,” Josep said. “That’s why we’re headed that way. Lord Jeren Brantyen, son of Lord Gereld, has got himself an army of mercenaries, rallied all the Lyenar under his banner and is marching towards Marmoros. We were in Puerto Reis when we heard the news but by the time we got here, we were too late to get to Yarford and join him there. So we’re heading up to High Falls to wait for him as he comes through.”

  “Well for your sake don’t tell them that in High Falls. They’ll slit your throat as soon as look at you. We paid our tolls but were forced to camp overnight outside the gates. Then the next morning as we moved off, we were attacked by ‘bandits’. We were still within sight of the city walls and they did nothing to help. We lost a wagon and two guards in that attack. I don’t know what happened to the family; if they were killed or captured. Maybe I should have gone back to find out but we couldn’t risk the other wagons.”